The Unstoppable Gin
by deadwoodpecker
Summary: Harry plans what he thinks is the perfect Christmas gift for his wife, but not all is as it seems. Please enjoy this sexy little story.
1. Chapter One

THE UNSTOPPABLE GIN

Harry Potter was many things to many different people. To the Wizarding world as a whole, he'd saved them from the menace of Voldemort. To the members of the Order of the Phoenix, he was their beacon (not his word — Molly'd said it many a time, much to his discomfort). To the dark wizards and Death Eaters, he was a menace. To Ron and Hermione, he was a somewhat beleaguered witness to their romantic ups and downs (whoever said the first year of marriage was the hardest had been right when it came to the Granger-Weasleys).

To Ginny, Harry liked to think he was husband, lover, best friend, flying partner, and most attractive bloke she knew. But there was one area in which he failed: gift-giving. Oh, he knew he'd given some good ones. Anything Quidditch related, and he was golden. But he'd grabbed practically everything off the shelves in Quality Quidditch Supplies back in August for her birthday, and now he only had a month to figure out what to do.

Harry leaned back in his chair, flung a cursed Remembrall up in the air, and caught it as it came down. It was a souvenir from the Tinsworth case, and Harry liked to play with it when he was required to do some hard thinking, like about how to solve the latest case, or what would wow his wife for Christmas.

Ginny was generally happy with whatever he got her — she liked him, presents, and Quidditch — but Harry didn't want to take advantage of her easy-going nature.

Harry put the cursed Remembrall back in its enchanted case (it would get up to mischief and destroy his office if he didn't store it properly) and wandered down to the lunch area. Harry grabbed a sandwich from the sideboard, and sat down at a table with Robards, Hamish, and Quentin. They were discussing nothing serious, as was usually the case during lunch.

During a lull, Harry asked, "So what are you giving your wives for Christmas?" He directed this at Hamish and Quentin. Robards was unmarried, and Harry thought, quite single.

"Tickets to see the Bent-Winged Snitches during their European tour," Hamish said immediately. "Had to jump through all sorts of hoops to get 'em, too."

Harry mulled this idea over and discarded it. Ginny was not particularly attached to any band, and he didn't think she'd be excited to see one live.

"I'm giving the wife a gift of myself," Quentin winked. Harry raised his eyebrows. "We give each other coupons, you see. Some of them are stuff like, 'Redeem this, and I'll take care of all the household charms for one week'. Well, this time, I'm making a coupon book for all the... things she likes, to be redeemed whenever she wants."

"You mean in bed?" Hamish asked.

"Yeah, you know," Quentin shrugged. His cheeks turned faintly pink. "For different... positions. Or... mouth stuff."

Harry thought this one over as well. He imagined himself writing "REDEEM FOR THE POSITION OF YOUR CHOICE" or "REDEEM FOR ORAL", and didn't really like it. He hoped Ginny knew that she could choose whatever position she wanted whenever she wanted, and as for oral, well. Harry did not at all mind when she gave him clues like spreading her legs wide, rumpling his hair, and moving restless hands on his shoulders. He liked her signals, liked that he could read her body and know what she wanted. He did not like the idea of her thinking she had to give him a coupon in order for him to do that.

He loved doing that, actually.

Harry was still thinking about that when he got home that night, and this is probably what led him to tugging up her robes, tugging down her knickers, and burying his face between her thighs.

"Harry!" Ginny squealed. Harry couldn't blame her. He'd given her hardly any warning. His thumbs stroked the delicate bones that connected her thighs to her most intimate parts. She shivered.

"I missed you," said Harry.

She softened and relaxed back into the chair, sprawling out. Harry stroked her clit with the tip of his finger, and watched her grow aroused. "That's right, Ginny," he said quietly. When she was wet for him, Harry replaced his fingertip with his tongue. Her hands came up to twine in his hair. Harry knew, without even having to look, that his wife's face was flushed, her lips were parted, and she was looking down at him.

Even though he didn't have to look, he still peeked up at her anyway. He looked past where the smooth cream of her stomach met red curls, past the undersides of her (regrettably) clothed breasts, and up into her eyes. They were warm, and excited. She was smiling, uncomplicatedly happy, just like him.

Harry closed his eyes again, and focused on that sweet little nub that brought her so much pleasure.

Later, he told her about Quentin's coupons.

"So that's what that was about?" Ginny laughed. She was digging into the steak and kidney pie Kreacher'd made. "You were pretending I'd redeemed an invisible coupon?"

"Or maybe _I_ was the one who redeemed the coupon," Harry said smugly. His lips were still slightly swollen from his activities. There was nothing quite like making Ginny come. It always gave him a surge of his own excitement, listening to the sounds she made, tasting the moment her body climaxed. It was brilliant, and not something he took for granted.

Ginny pushed her pie away, then came over to straddle his lap. She kissed him, playfully, and lightly. "Who knew the first third year of marriage was going to be so great?" she said. "It's been wonderful... I get to spend as much time with you as I want."

Something twinged in his thoughts, but then her kisses were less playful and light, and he forgot the thought nearly as soon as he'd had it.

The next week, it came back to him. Harry stood once more in the lunch room the Aurors used, and looked curiously at the brochure in his hands. _Twisted Cedars and Gin_ , it read. It was the "gin" that caught his eye, and he smoothed the crumpled paper. It was a gin distillery that doubled as a couples retreat. One eyebrow raised at the combination, but Harry read on:

 _Have all your fantasies come true during a private getaway._

It was a tantalizing prospect.

Harry stared off, remembering the early days of navigating their relationship after the war and everything that followed. Mostly, it had been wonderful, and the perfect balm. But there had been pockets of tension here and there, and it wasn't until they'd gone away with each other — no family, no Ron and Hermione, no distractions — that they realized they needed private time together that stretched out longer than a few hours here and there. They'd gone up to visit the boreal forest in Scandinavia on almost a whim, and discovered something magical: they loved being together without the pressure of having anything to do (except each other) the next day or the next. They'd stolen many more weekends after that, and their belated honeymoon had been a particularly wonderful time.

And Harry'd found the perfect Christmas gift.

He sent off his owl with his reservation — under a false name, it was never pleasant when the press discovered where he and Ginny were staying — less than ten minutes later, feeling the pressure of trying to find the perfect gift release from where he'd been keeping it around his shoulders. Suddenly, he couldn't wait for Christmas.

Not only did Harry and Ginny enjoy a good, stiff drink, but they valued their alone time together. It was, he decided, the perfect gift.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Weasleys took present opening seriously. Paper flew, packages were ripped open, squeals of delight were uttered. Baby Victoire looked around at all the adults with wide, astonished eyes. Ginny sat in between Harry's legs. He was stretched out on the floor, leaning on his hands, looking around, a bemused look on his face.

"You should be used to us by now," she grinned at him. The spangled witch's hat from Ron and Hermione hung down into her eyes. She flipped it back.

"I am," he smiled at her. "I'm just not used to George in a dress."

"You should be," said Ginny. George had worn a dress to their wedding. Both of them.

"So it usually means it's a special occasion," Harry pointed out. He leaned forward and gripped her around the waist. "And we're usually only a couple hours away from having sex," he whispered in her ear. It made her shiver.

"Play your cards right, and you might be," Ginny told him. It would be tricky. It was Christmas tradition for the lot of them to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas night at the Burrow, and there was almost always some prank involved that made it difficult for Ginny and Harry to have sex.

Difficult, but not impossible.

In reply, Harry handed her an envelope. Her eyebrows flew upward. Usually Harry just bought everything she might like in Quality Quidditch Supplies — from dragon leather gloves, to luxurious seat cushions that had quite honestly changed Ginny's life for the better. This was a departure from tradition.

She opened the fancy envelope, and found a reservation under the names Hortense and Gerald Porter. She flashed back to the first time they'd done fake names to escape the press; James and Lily had been the obvious choice, until Harry realized how odd it was to be called his dad's name during a sex-drenched weekend getaway. _Hortense and Gerald_ , Ginny chuckled. "This is perfect, Harry, thank you," she said. She turned and managed to kiss his lips, giving him a lingering little promise.

"What'd he get you, dear?" her mum asked.

"A weekend getaway at"— she reread the reservation —"Twisted Cedars and Gin. Looks like there's all sorts of things to do." _For couples_ , she added silently.

"Did you say Twisted Cedars and Gin?" This was from Charlie, who normally was the brother least inclined to bother to care about his married little sister's sex life. Some weird mood had come over him, and his voice sounded a little faint.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I think Robards might have been dating someone he never told us about, because I saw him bin this. Poor bloke." Robards's single status was legendary, and Ginny chuckled to herself at the idea of him having a girlfriend.

Bill was eyeing her, wrapping paper forgotten. "Everything okay, Gin?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" Ginny asked, exasperated. "Harry got me a lovely gift. I happen to like going to new places."

Charlie scrutinized her, then shrugged. "Well, I'm not going to judge."

"Nor should you," said Ginny. Her temper was starting to surge. Perhaps it was the fact they were celebrating Christmas all together as a family, and that made them think of her as a child again, but she was not going to tolerate them embarrassing her. Bill _and_ George were eyeing her oddly — and that was a bit rich, coming from George, who was wearing a dress that would not look odd on Neville's grandmother! "Do I need to explain to you lot that our business is _none of yours_?" Ginny asked. Her hand went to her wand. Only Ron and Percy did not seem to think she was suddenly twelve years old again, for which she was grateful.

"No," Bill held up his hands in a placating gesture. "No, I just — sorry." For some reason, his face was bright red.

"Children, settle down," her mum said belatedly.

Ginny was still a little irritated by the whole exchange a few hours later, and she let Harry know it.

"I'm not a child!" she said indignantly.

"No, you most certainly aren't," said Harry. He sighed.

"They shouldn't try to embarrass me on Christmas morning, what's wrong with them?"

"They're blighters," Harry confirmed. His fingers spawned against her hips. "Let's hex the lot of them after we—"

Ginny decided he was right, and leaned down to kiss him. The air inside the treehouse was stuffy, but this was not why Harry was sucking in deep breaths. Their bodies were melded together in such a way that Ginny decided Harry was right: any discussion about hexes could occur _later._

She adjusted her position, and sank down onto him. Her eyes rolled back in her head the moment he filled her completely. "Oh, God, Harry, you feel so fucking good," she rasped out. His fingers dug into her hips. Ginny began to ride him, slowly, not wanting to end things too quickly. She'd just used her lips and tongue to work him up, and he was nearing the point at which there was no stopping his climax.

She put his hand up his shirt, and toyed with his flat nipples. He moaned and arched against her. The pleasure of that movement made her cry out. _God, I love how he feels_ , she thought. So full, so good. She started riding harder, and he helped. Little sounds came out of her mouth, and he was babbling at how good she felt, how tight she was, how she was going to make him come—

And then she felt him do just that, and she pressed herself down tight, making tiny, fierce motions, and she shattered too. Pleasure surged, just as he was shooting into her, and yelling her name.

Ginny collapsed on top of him. They were both still quivering and panting. She was exceedingly grateful for cushioning charms, the ones that had made it so easy to ride Harry like that, despite the uncomfortable wood floor.

"As much fun as this was," Ginny said once she was able to talk, "I am looking forward to having you all to myself for three days."

"And we can do this all day," Harry said blissfully. "We can do it all day, and talk all night, and not worry about being interrupted."

Ginny moved up his body to kiss his lips. She rumpled his hair, and cupped his jaw with both hands. His eyes closed when she kissed his chin. "Great idea for a gift, Harry, did I say thank you yet?"

"I was hoping you'd like it," Harry said quietly.

The moment ended much too soon, and pretty soon they were casting freshening charms, cleansing charms, and every other charm they knew that would help them obscure what they'd just been doing. Ginny tugged on her robes, and watched a little wistfully as Harry's backside disappeared under his clothes.

 _Oh yes,_ she thought. _We're going to have so much fun._

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It started off so wonderful, too.

They even did Side-Along Apparition — not because Apparating was in any way a romantic way to travel, but because Ginny told him she didn't want to let go of his arm, so she Apparated the both of them to their destination.

It was, Harry had to admit, quite impressive. It was an estate, and a giant mansion — the kind the Dursleys used to drive to on Sunday afternoons and goggle at, while Harry sat in Miss Figg's cat pee-smelling living room. The image was complete when an old, old wizard in rather resplendent robes materialized out of thin air to greet them.

"Greetings!" he said in a whispery voice. "What would you like to partake in first?"

"Erm... maybe we can put our stuff in our room?" said Harry. It was a long walk up the drive. He gripped Ginny's hand and twined his fingers with hers. "Actually... I think we'll just go up to our room for the evening."

Ginny squeezed his hand.

The lobby area was covered in different sized bottles of gin. Some of them even floated like magical, boozy balloons. One in particular caught his eye — two shadows, male and female, chased each other around the label, pausing every once in a while to — to do, well, what Harry wanted to be doing with Ginny for the rest of the night.

"Most of these labels are custom made," said the sepulchral butler. "Our patrons often commission one to commemorate their time here."

Harry's eyes widened when he saw another shadowy label, with a wizard with the broad build of Charlie Weasley slapping the rump of one witch, while another —

"Right this way, please," said the butler.

A lift brought them up to the top floor. Harry had not spared a single expense on this trip. He wanted Ginny to have the best — and most private — room possible. And it was luxurious in a way that Harry could swear it took her breath away. It looked like a sultan's tent, with dark red hangings, and floating candles. The bed filled a quarter of the giant room, and while a door led off to what Harry assumed was a washroom, there was a giant, black bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. Unlit candles were all around, awaiting the moment a witch or wizard flicked their wand to light them. It was perfect.

"I trust the room is to your satisfaction?"

Harry nodded. Then realized the butler was waiting for a reply. "Yes, this is perfect."

"Have you decided what you want to do tomorrow?"

"Erm," said Ginny.

Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and saw she was doing the same thing. He smothered a chuckle.

"Am I right in guessing this is your first time here?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Most couples choose to do a private tour. We have a glass lift that brings you through each area of the estate."

 _These people take their gin-making seriously,_ thought Harry. It seemed only polite to agree to the tour; the butler seemed to think it important. "Sure, sign us up for the private tour," Harry said agreeably. Another glance at Ginny. Another smothered chuckle.

"Very well," said the butler.

Harry handed him a galleon, and he finally left.

Finally, they were alone.

Ginny pulled him to her, kissing him fiercely, and within what felt like seconds, they were undressed and hurtling toward the bed. Harry took a moment to appreciate how decadent the bed felt, all slippery silk and softness. There were two sashes hanging from the headboard, artfully draped over the pillows. Harry's eyebrows winged upward — this place had thought of everything a couple might like — but then he was propping himself up on one arm, tracing circles on Ginny's stomach, then dipping lower to get her ready for him.

They made love his favorite way, slowly and thoroughly. Harry took his time, pushing in, easing out, bringing them both to the brink, and then easing back.

"I love you," he told her at least thirty times. They were as close as two people could be, and God, did he love this witch. Her arms stroked his back as he slid in and out, speeding up, slowing down, finding sweet spots for both of them, and prodding them both to completion. He came, finally, in long bursts of pure pleasure, feeling her own climax urging him on.

After, they took advantage of that huge bathtub. They soaped each other. Harry ran his hands all over her body, enjoying the closeness.

They kissed, often.

The bath water did not get cold as long as they were in it, and they experimented with all the scented soaps. Harry grew hard again before too long, and then they made love all over again, just like that, enjoying the buoyancy of the water, and the way their bodies fit so well together.

It was very late, and they were cuddled up in the huge, soft bed. Harry thought she might be drifting off to sleep, so was surprised when she spoke.

"I was thinking this next year might be my last with the Harpies," she said dreamily.

"Yeah?" said Harry. He hoped this meant what he thought it did. Her next words elevated that hope, instead of dashing it.

"I think... I think by then I — I mean _we_ — might be ready," she said.

Harry pressed a kiss to her shoulder, smiling. "Ready for little James or little Lily, you mean?"

"Yes," she said simply.

Harry kissed her until they both fell asleep, Harry's last coherent thought being how wonderful it was to be thinking of starting a family with Ginny.

Their private tour was scheduled at nine, and Harry, still sleepy, wished they hadn't been committed to it. Instead of the sepulchral butler, it was a businesslike, middle-aged witch who babbled at them as they were led to a glassy lift.

"They all know there is a chance they are being watched," she said. "So feel free to do with that what you make of it."

Harry's eyes widened when he saw the bed inside of it. He exchanged a startled, confused glance with Ginny. Then the doors were shutting, and they were alone. "So why do we need a bed in here?" He asked. Then, lower, because his voice echoed oddly: "Why do we need a bed if we're just touring some gin distillery?"

The lift hurtled them through doors that opened magically in front of them.

And Harry had his answer almost immediately. His mouth opened in absolute shock as he saw what was going on, and he heard Ginny's voice catch.

"Oh, Harry," she said with a mortified giggle. "I don't think this is a gin distillery."

xxxxxxxx

 **Author's Note:** _More Christmas gifts! From me to you (expected), and from Harry to Ginny (totally unexpected). Harry is going to wish he'd had a Wizarding form of google. LOL_

 _Love,_

 _Ella_


	2. Chapter Two

They'd stayed up late the night before, and Ginny was tired, but trying to be polite to the hostess. _These people are really into their gin_ , Ginny thought. Her lips twitched as she looked sidelong at Harry. Her shoulders firmed. They could be polite for a couple hours, maybe have lunch in one of the restaurants on site, and then go back to their room. Ginny'd noticed the sashes affixed to the headboard, and a vague plan was forming around them.

They entered the glass lift.

"—you'll be able to see them, but they won't see you—"

Ginny looked at the witch. What an odd thing to say. Even odder was the fact the lift had a bed in it. A bed? In a lift to tour a gin distillery? Before Ginny could ask for clarification, the door was shut, heavy wooden doors were opening, and the lift moved through them.

Shock was her first response. Then: "Harry, I don't think this is a gin distillery," she said. An embarrassed giggle escaped out of her.

It was... surprisingly tasteful.

A wizard and two witches were posing in front of a magical backdrop. An elderly wizard took pictures of them, ordering them about, putting them in different poses. This all would have been fairly normal had the three of them not been posing naked.

"Now, put your hand on his penis," the photographer said briskly. "It'll be obscured, just like you want, but we want to evoke his arousal."

"Thanks. The kids get into everything these days," said the wizard.

The older blond woman nodded. "We don't want them to see mummy and daddy with their favorite witch."

"Buh," said Harry.

Ginny watched, cheeks growing redder, as the photographer moved them about, having the witches kiss each other passionately while the wizard looked on.

"All right, that's it for the waterfall pool," said the photographer. He flicked his wand, and the waterfall and pool disappeared, and a rather lifelike version of the Leaky Cauldron snapped into place. "Oh, I do apologize, you specified you wanted Hogwarts, didn't you? The Great Hall, I believe? Hufflepuff, wasn't it?"

The Great Hall appeared, complete with the head table, illusions of professors sitting at it, and magnificently rendered Hufflepuff hangings. One witch lay down on the table, legs splayed (but not revealing anything to her audience), and stretched out with a laugh. Her friend wrapped a thick, Hufflepuff scarf around her wrists.

"Where it all began for us," said the other witch cheerfully. "Remember, Rome?"

"Vividly," said the wizard.

Ginny's cheeks were burning. It was erotic, she was uncomfortable, it was beautiful, she couldn't believe it was happening, she didn't _really_ want to see this, and she couldn't quite look away.

"Hufflepuffs," Harry said. There was a tendril of giddy laughter in his tone.

The lift smoothly moved forward, out of the enchanted place where people posed. It made Ginny think of the secret cupboard in Grimmauld Place. "I think Sirius's parents probably came here?"

"Came here?" Harry asked. "I bet they built the place."

Ginny laughed. "I bet this whole estate used to be the Black ancestral home. I always wondered why they only had the house in London."

"I bet it still is, and that's where all the money comes from," Harry countered.

"Sirius's Uncle Alphard used to own it," said Ginny.

While they joked about the Black family proclivities, the lift brought them to a new room. Ginny had her back to it, and she saw when Harry closed his eyes. "What, you're not going to look?"

"Afraid to," he said promptly.

Ginny squeezed his arm. "I'll protect you from all the bad witches and wizards pretending to have sex," she said playfully. Then she turned around, and her breath caught. Ginny choked.

This was no pretense. The lift had brought them into an enchanted garden, the likes of which featured in many a Beedle the Bard tale. There was even a fountain. And on a wide, flowery swing, an older couple made love to each other as though they were the only ones in the world. Ginny's eyes widened. The wizard's salt and pepper hair was tied back in a queue, and his hands were all over his wife's ample curves as they swung and pumped.

She could tell the moment Harry opened his own eyes. His hand gripped hers. His palms were slightly damp. A door opened elsewhere in the room, and a trio of witches wearing nothing but fairy wings danced in, squealing, pinching each other, and pausing every once in a while to give each other small kisses.

The lift took them onward, through many more rooms, showing them many other couples (and more) cavorting with each other. The further on they went, the stranger things got, until Ginny was staring in open-mouthed disbelief at a wizard chained to a wall, being whipped by a witch in a tight leather corset and nothing else. She was wearing a mask that was reminiscent of a Death Eater, and Ginny and Harry exchanged identical looks of distaste.

"Gross," they said together.

A little shudder went through her, and she was relieved when the lift moved on. She understood everyone had their private fantasies, but there was something that disturbed her on a deeper level at the wizard's mouth contorted in pain while a witch dressed as a Death Eater whipped him. It was too real, too soon.

All the vicarious enjoyment she'd felt at watching others enjoy themselves, it disappeared at this last scene. And when the last room — and she was relieved to know it was the _final_ room — came into view, and Ginny realized the occupants were having a tremendous time at their orgy, she had lost all interest in the tour.

The only thing of interest was a giant scoreboard. At the very top were the names RITA, CHARLIE, and VINCENZO.

Harry snorted. "Think it's the Rita and Charlie we know?" he asked.

"Yes," Ginny said without hesitation. This explained Charlie's odd mood at Christmas. And surely Bill and George had heard of this place as well... that's what those looks had been for.

"They could have told us," Ginny and Harry said at the same time, with identical indignation. Then they laughed at each other. What would Charlie, Bill, or George said? _Hey, little sister, didn't know you and Harry were so kinky!_ Ginny's cheeks burned, and hilarity welled up.

The tour ended the same place it began: in the sumptuous lobby. Harry grabbed a bottle of gin, and showed her the label. He obscured shadowy bits, but Ginny recognized Charlie's hair and build. She shook her head. _I guess he isn't too busy with his dragons to have a girlfriend, he's just not into settling down_ , she thought.

"I hope you enjoyed the tour," the hostess bustled over. She had several brochures in her hand. "I hope you found something you both like, and now that you know what your options are, you can make an informed decision as to how you want the next two days to proceed—"

"Pardon me for interrupting," said Ginny. Her tone was polite but firm. "But I do believe Mr. Porter and I have exactly what we need in our own room, and don't want to make any reservations. I trust you can have meals sent up?"

"Not even photographs?" the hostess asked in disbelief. To Ginny's annoyance, her eyes flew to Harry, as though she needed confirmation from the wizard, that no, they did _not_ want to engage in intimacies in front of anyone, not even a photographer.

"Not even photographs," Harry said. His tone was a little less polite. "Just meals, please. Oh, and a bottle of gin, if you please." He pointed to the Charlie bottle. "Just not that one."

Ginny was greatly relieved when they arrived back in their room. They both flung themselves on the bed, and covered their eyes with their forearms. It took long minutes for her to process what she'd seen, to try to give it context. The one thought that kept intruding was how _happy_ she was that Harry liked to keep things private, that he was never going to be comfortable taking off his kit and having his way with her in front of others. She didn't want anyone else seeing him like that.

"You're mine," she murmured.

"Yes," he said simply.

They lay facing each other. Ginny stroked his arm.

"I had no idea—"

Ginny laughed. "I know. The look on your face..."

Harry made a face. "I know people can get up to anything they want, as long as everyone's okay with it, but God. I can't stand the idea of anyone else seeing you naked like that." Then, obviously remembering that the showers after Harpy games were communal, he hurried to add: "I mean _sex naked_. Not just normal naked."

"You mean you don't want to see me fondling two other women?" Ginny smiled wickedly. She flicked a glance down at his groin. The three cavorting fairies had been the only thing to prod his interest, and — come to think of it — the painting of the three witches in the secret cupboard at Grimmauld Place was the only naughty portrait that he bothered to look at.

There was a high flush on his cheekbones.

She stroked his jaw. "It was an erotic sight, it's okay to admit that."

His breath whooshed out and he nodded. "And you liked the swing. I can tell when you react to stuff."

"It looked like fun. God knows, it would be easier than trying it on a broom again."

Ginny began undressing him. She did it slowly. "I'm so lucky you were never serious with anyone before this, before us," she said. "I'm glad everything we do is just between us, and we've never done it with anyone else."

"And never will," Harry said fervently. His eyes burned into hers.

He reached for her, but Ginny shook her head, feeling suddenly impulsive and daring. She flicked her wrist, and the scarves attached to the headboard slipped down, and wrapped themselves around her wrists. This was the one thing she'd seen today that genuinely disturbed her, and she wanted fresh, clean images in her head.

"Tell me to stop if you want," she murmured.

"You're unstoppable," he countered.

Ginny grinned at that, and flicked her wand again. The rest of his clothes and hers vanished. His penis lay on his thigh, and stirred with interest even as she watched. It hardened, lengthened, and pointed straight at her. Ginny bit her lip. It was a sexy sight, watching Harry grow hard for her. Knowing that they were about to create passion together. It bobbed up and down as she watched, and his stomach muscles quivered.

At first, Ginny kissed all the places where the poor wizard in that last room had been whipped. Then she forgot the scene she was trying to erase, and just enjoyed Harry. She flicked her tongue against his nipples. His chest rose up and down. She covered every inch of him with kisses, while he held still.

When she finally got to his penis, he groaned low and loud. It jerked against her in anticipation. Ginny settled in a comfortable spot, wrapped one hand around his shaft, and sucked him into her mouth.

If Ginny was trying, she could generally get him to come in three minutes — this was if there was a time crunch, or they were in a spot they could get caught. But today Ginny used everything she'd learned about his body to heighten his pleasure, and elongate the moments before he filled her mouth. She brought him to the edge with a rhythm she knew he liked, then eased off and made it about the sensation of her hands gliding over him, teasing him. She looked into his eyes as she moved her hand up and down his shaft, resting her jaw, and keeping him from coming.

"God, it's so good, Ginny," he said hoarsely. His arms kept yanking restlessly at the scarves, but Ginny refused to free him.

Ginny licked from the base to the tip, swirling her tongue around it, and this time, when her mouth closed around him, she let the pleasure in him build and build and build until he was shouting "GINNY!" in a strangled voice, and salty fluid that was uniquely _him_ flooded into her mouth. Ginny swallowed all of it, milking him with her hand, while his body twitched with pleasure under her.

Ginny sagged against him, managed to flick her wand, and his hands came down to rest gently in her hair. Ginny grinned against his softening penis. "How was that?" she asked.

"Brilliant," he rasped out. "Brilliant. I might've just died."

Ginny smothered a chuckle. Harry was never more grateful than after a blow job. Finally, she raised her head. "How about we try out some of that gin while we hide in here the rest of the weekend?"

They did.

Harry disappeared the morning they left, and returned with a sheepish grin and gift-wrapped box. "I had to get it."

Ginny opened it to find her very own shadowy outline. Not naked, but with robes fluttering out behind her, her arms thrown in the air in victory. Ginny knew exactly which picture he used, the one after the Harpies beat the undefeated Wimbourne Wasps; he'd said repeatedly it was his favorite picture of her, and she knew he kept it in his wallet.

He'd bought her her own private label, and it boldly declared itself "The Unstoppable Gin." "It was what I could think of," Harry said, shrugging and looking slightly embarrassed.

"It's perfect," Ginny said. She pulled him closer and wondered if they just might have time for one more round of love-making before they checked out. "I love it. I love you."

His arms closed around her, and for long minutes, the gin sat forgotten on a dresser. This time, it was Ginny's hands that were bound.

xxxxxxx

 **Author's Note:** _I am pretty sure this is the last of the Christmas presents. I do want to write a full epilogue for Yellow Submarine, but I started to outline it, and just couldn't work up the oomph. I have been thinking about it, though, as I am rereading it, and I think some of the tenderness between YS H/G is reflected in this. I think I could probably commit to posting it by Valentine's Day._

 _I think Unstoppable Gin might just be the leaping off point for another story, one that is H/G, of course. I had this idea that while Twisted Cedars is a sex-positive location for witches and wizards who have different proclivities (and H/G are both territorial, so are not tempted to partake) there are other places that are not so nice. Seems like it could be a hotbed for dark sexual politics, and Harry is an Auror, so. I like to make one or two Weasleys or Sirius the secondary focus of a story, just because it makes it easier make shit fit together, gives the story movement, etc. Like, when I start rewriting Shadowed Patronus, I know that I need to build George up a little more. Draft one was 91k words written in about two months, so I am hoping draft two will take about a month._

 _Charlie is like my white whale or Everest. How do we include Charlie in a story? I couldn't figure it out until this little accidental sex dungeon story popped into my head. Yes, yes. Make it dark and kinky. So anyway. I have a lot of H/G stuff on the horizon, including more fairy tales, and a story to bind them. And then the sex weird story with Charlie as main sidekick._

 _Hope you'll stick around for at least some of those!_

 _Love,_

 _Ella_


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